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Someone recently asked me how I got so into the outdoors. I didn’t grow up with mountain climbing parents and in a sense I’m quite the black sheep in my family. An apple that fell from the tree when there was a storm outside, as my uncle once put it 😂

I think I always had a deep passion for the outdoors but it took a trip to southwestern US as a 19-year old to fully realize it. There, somewhere in my tent under the milky way in the deserts of Arizona I found a psyche of greater proportions than I’d ever experienced before.

Fast forward to today and I can’t look at a massive rock wall, snowy mountain or wild river without seeing routes, lines and general potential for another great day in the wild.

Still far away from as hardcore as many of my friends, I wonder where this psyche will have taken me in another 10 years from now. All I know for sure it that I want to stay in a lifelong relationship with those humbling rocky giants that have inspired me so much to this day.

Thanks for all the love and support that have taken me to where I am ❤️

In December 2010 I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania. It was an extraordinary experience and I’m very happy I made that decision to try once I got to the foot of the volcano in Moshi, where the snow-covered peak somehow seemed to be calling my name.

To watch the sun rise over the savanna when I finally reached the summit at 5895 meter above sea level, on the fourth day of climbing, was the kind of reward that makes you forget all the pain and overwhelming lack of energy for the moment and just think that it was all so incredibly worth it. Because it was, and I loved every second at the top of Africa. But then, eventually, you realize you have to make it all the way down. Too. Hehe. It was during this part of the trek I promised myself not to put myself through that kind of suffer again. That promise lasted for quite exactly two years, until I got to the foot of yet another spellbinding volcano…

This time it was Cotopaxi in central Ecuador who I can almost swear repeatedly whispered my name, as soon as I got the first glimpse of it… I hooked up with Alex, a happy, British teacher, (over?)full of energy, and in the end we took off as a group of nine guys, five mountain guides, and me.

Packed like sardines in a box while trying to “sleep” before the midnight ascent. That was five interesting hours, lying listening to different sorts of noice, giggling and fighting for the space (we all averaged on around an impressive 2 minutes of sleep).

Crampons on.

Cotopaxi is a lot more technical than Kilimanjaro as you reach the glaciated area already after an hour or so. However, once again; painful, e x h a u s t i n g, frrreezing, but so worth it – a totally stunning hike.

As we reached the summit in the early morning light we got greeted by a huge ash plume on the horizon, coming from the neighboring volcano of Tunghurangua near Baños (where I’d been mountain biking a few days earlier..). The eruption had been starting only one or two hours before we got up there. Quite a reward. I forgot the feeling of being near collapse and smiled. Giggled. Then laughed out load. Gave Alex a big victory hug. And THEN collapsed for a while (while admiring the view)

Observe the ash plume behind us!!

To keep the story about the way back short, I can say we made it down……… eventually. Dead but yet so alive.

Alex in pain. The refuge (yellow building) so close but still so far!!

About three hours, one hamburger and a shower later I was standing at the roof top of my hostel in Latacunga, looking at the summit from the distance, feeling nothing but satisfaction and happiness. It’s amazing what the human body can accomplish, and how fast it can recover.

PS. The summit of Cotopaxi is to be found at 5897 meters above sea level, thus I beat my previous record with a thrilling 2 meters, woho, victory…